


Wizarding World's Best Arse

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:18:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4478993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wins the Wizarding World's Best Arse, and gets quite a bit of attention for it.  Draco isn't jealous; not at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wizarding World's Best Arse

Harry woke up abruptly, rubbing his hands over his face and blinking, bleary eyed through the curtains of his four poster bed.

“Bugger” he muttered to himself, jumping out of bed and hastily shoving on the closest pair of clean pants he could find. He’d woken up late - again. 

He’d thought Ron might have the decency to wake him, especially since this was becoming a regular occurrence, but he was probably off with Hermione again. Though Harry thought, as he quickly tried to put on his tie while running down the stairs from the boys dormitory two at a time, if he deserved at least one perk from defeating the dark lord it could at the very least have been the luxury of sleeping in. Of course on the down side it meant he was going to miss breakfast again.

His stomach rumbled loudly as he sprinted down the hallways. He was just trying to decide if he had time to nip into the great hall for a quick bite when he felt it - someone had smacked him on the arse!

“Nice one, Potter!” a 7th year Ravenclaw he didn’t recognize whistled.

Harry was so dumb founded he just shook his head, still making his way towards the great Hall. Harry thought maybe he was going crazy because he could’ve sworn a 5th year Hufflepuff whistled at him on his way too.

He was just about to enter the great hall when two arms grabbed him from each side dragging him behind the nearest statue.

“What the bloody-” but he was cut off as Ron shoved a piece of toast in his mouth.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you mate.”

Harry raised an eyebrow but Hermione just huffed, blowing a strand of frizzy hair off her face.

“You’re late, Harry. Again. Although for once I think it was probably for the better. You missed all the commotion,” she said holding up a copy of the daily prophet.

What Harry saw blazing in bold letters on the front had him chocking on his toast. Ron couldn’t help but snigger. “Sorry, mate. Sorry!” he said holding his hands up in mock submission.

Harry chewed the last bit of toast, sighing as he snatched the paper from Hermione’s fingers.

THE BOY WHO LIVED - BEST ARSE IN BRITAIN

Harry frowned again, staring at the photo on the front page. It was a photo of Harry from last weeks quidditch match against Slytherin. Although what made it slightly more interesting was the fact that half of Harry’s quidditch gear was stripped off and he was bending over to undue the rest of his gear showing off a very, very close look at his arse. Harry had to cough, remembering exactly what he’d done, and with whom he’d done it, right after this and could only thank his lucky stars there wasn’t a photo of that as well.

“This - this is not a thing! Best Arse? This is a bloody joke right?” Harry spluttered, shaking the paper. He was torn between complete embarrassment and being thankful there weren’t more photos of his activities in that very locker room just five minutes later. He blushed, swallowing down the lump in his throat and wiping his hands on his pants. If either of his friends noticed they didn’t say anything, assuming the blush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck was due entirely to the photo and not to a certain Slytherin seeker who’d just so happened to have walked in just moments after this photo had obviously been taken.

“Come on, Harry. Classes are starting. It’s best to just get this day over with,” Hermione said matter of flatly dragging Harry out from behind the statue.

Harry’s day only got worse from there. He’d been slapped on the arse twice more on the way to class, whistled at three times and propositioned by a 1st year. He was beginning to think things couldn’t get worse when he realized they had Potions with the Slytherins today.

“Oi, look its Potter! Don’t you want to show us your better side!” Pansy Parkinson said, batting her eyelashes as the rest of the Slytherins laughed.

The rest of class went about the same, with each Slytherin and even a few of the Gryffindors, taking every opportunity to tease Harry. He tried to brush it off, pretending not to be embarrassed and trying very hard not to feel a pair of grey eyes boring a hole into his back. By the time class was over Harry was seriously considering ditching the rest of his classes for the day and hiding in the common room. But for the second time that day he felt himself being roughly dragged behind a statue as he exited the Potions room.

“What the-” he started to shout but was silenced by a pair of deliciously soft lips pressed against his. Harry relaxed immediately, grabbing at Draco’s robes desperately. Draco shoved him back against the wall, wasting no time at all in undoing Harry’s robes and his belt. Harry gasped loudly as Draco’s long, cold fingers brushed across his abdomen quickly finding their way to his arse. Harry dropped his head back against the stone wall with a thud.

“Draco,” he whimpered, but Draco was far too focused on his own task. His fingers seemed determined to touch every inch of Harry’s arse, running down the curve then delving into the cleft massaging at his entrance and making Harry nearly desperate with need. How Draco could do this to him in a matter of seconds Harry would never know. Draco didn’t relent and Harry blushed as he realized how hard he was already.

“That’s right, Potter,” Draco whispered, attacking his neck now; sucking and biting and Harry was pretty sure he’d forgotten how to breathe at some point. “You know who you belong to. I nearly hexed at least ten students today listening to them talking about your arse.”

Harry tried to respond. He really did. He wanted to tell Draco it was silly to be jealous, that Harry despised the attention. Except Draco was sucking Harry’s ear into his mouth and grinding his cock against Harry’s as he continued to massage his arse. And god Draco’s cock was just as hard which made Harry feel a little less embarrassed but a whole lot more turned on.

“Don’t think I didn’t see people touching you all day. Watching you. Wanting you. Well they can’t have you, Potter. Do you hear me? You’re mine!” Draco said, and Harry could hear the desperation in Draco’s voice.  
Somehow, and Harry wasn’t sure how because forming coherent thoughts while Draco touched him like this was near impossible, he managed to choke out a wanton “Yours.” Draco responded immediately, his fingers moving into places Harry had only dreamed about. Harry wasn’t sure how he wasn’t passing out because he was sure he wasn’t breathing and he might even have forgotten how to move.

“Mine, and don’t you forget it,” Draco whispered possessively. 

Harry sighed, closing his eyes and smiling. Maybe he thought, as Draco continued his assault, being in the paper wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was just a little ficlet inspired by Daniel Radcliffe winning Britain’s best arse award.


End file.
